


see roses in the rain

by astralscrivener



Series: modern au: squad up universe [25]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Fluff, M/M, THEY'RE IN LOVE SUSAN, Wedding Planning, Weddings, fic request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-08 00:52:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17376416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralscrivener/pseuds/astralscrivener
Summary: set between chapters 54 & 55 ofbecause guys like us are cool in college.You’re gonna be the first one to cry.I’m not gonna cry. You’re gonna cry enough for both of us.Keith and Lance's wedding day...sort of.





	see roses in the rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cecilebakura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilebakura/gifts).



> fic request for my dearest tía cece <333 thank u for enabling me and my klance agenda constantly, i love u
> 
> title's from coldplay's song "us against the world," which is most definitely keith and lance's wedding song for their first dance as husbands thanks for coming to my ted talk

            On their wedding day, they both wear white.

            The sun blazes toward sunset in a cloudless sky while the tide rolls in the background, waves crashing along the shoreline behind the makeshift altar. White tulle fills up the arch at the altar, dotted with bouquets of purple flowers, _because that_ _’s our color, Keith._ A combination of red and blue, their favorites—but those colors aren’t missing entirely. Lance’s boutonniere contains a single red rose; across the aisle, Lance spots Keith’s, and his is blue.

            Their ties, though, are an identical, deep violet, a violet that matches the cape Lance wears— _because I_ _’m the one walking down the aisle, and if I don’t have a dress with a train, then I’m wearing a cape, no you cannot fight me on this._ And Keith had smiled, leaned over and kissed him, murmured, _alright, whatever you want, Starboy._

            Lance rolls his shoulders, barest trace of a smirk on his face. Keith still hasn’t spotted him behind all the wedding guests. He’s still trading exasperated glances with Shiro—his best man, because who else would he have chosen?—and only turns forward, abrupt and with the most endearing look of terror on his face, as Shiro nudges him, and points out that the processional’s drawing to a close. Points out that _Lance_ _’s entrance_ is approaching.

            Clara and Javier, Lance’s niece and nephew, start down the aisle just ahead of Lance and his mother, the flower girl and the ring bearer, graceful and sophisticated for the first time in a long time that Lance can remember. Then eyes shift back, and Lance takes in a deep breath.

            He steps out from behind the crowd of friends and family, to the center of the aisle, lined with a soft white runner. He takes his mother’s arm and smiles at her; tears do not prick the corners of her eyes. They already flood her cheeks and likely blur her vision as she begins walking him down the aisle. He squeezes her arm, and then looks forward, to the man waiting for him at the altar.

            _You_ _’re gonna be the first one to cry._

_I_ _’m not gonna cry. You’re gonna cry enough for both of us._

A lump quickly forms in Lance’s throat as Keith’s panicked expression melts away, transforming into awe. His throat bobs, and even from here, Lance can pinpoint the moment Keith’s eyes tear up. His hands, clasped together, tighten, as Keith tries to figure out what to do with them as Lance approaches. And despite all his fidgeting, Keith is beautiful.

            The sun burns behind him and the altar as it draws closer to the horizon, lighting up the sky in shades of pink, orange, purple, inky blue. It illuminates Keith, a bright spot in his white suit. A halo forms around his head, while strands of his hair turn gold. With the sun behind him, his eyes widen when he catches sight of Lance, free to stare all he wants, because that’s—that’s _his_ soon-to-be husband marching down the aisle, _his_ future.

            And Lance doesn’t want to be anyone else’s.

            For once in his life he ignores the fact that all eyes are on him as he continues on. He should maybe smile at everyone, nod, acknowledge their existence, but he can’t, because suddenly it’s just him and Keith and everything is right with the universe. His lower lip trembles as he draws closer, and his mother squeezes his arm one more time, momentarily breaks his trance as she releases him with a watery smile, and goes to take her seat in the front row while Lance finishes his journey to the altar. He hands off his bouquet to Hunk, his own best man.

            Hunk gives him an encouraging smile, one that says _atta boy_ and _I_ _’m proud of you_ and _now go get your man_.

            Lance returns it, and when he blinks, a tear slips down his face. Then he turns away from Hunk and turns to the person who matters the most to him.

            Nothing could have prepared him for seeing Keith’s face up close. Whoever did his makeup did a good job—light and natural, and it highlights his features in a way that has Lance’s heart jackhammering as Keith takes his hands, stares back at him with his own wet eyes, with his own tear-stained cheeks.

            “I thought you said you wouldn’t cry,” Lance whispers teasingly, rubbing a gentle thumb over Keith’s knuckles, while Keith chokes on some cross between a laugh and a sob.

            “I did say that, huh. Guess I was wrong,” Keith whispers back, and squeezes Lance’s hands. “You look…” He pauses, fumbles for words, stops and shakes his head and coughs on another laugh. “I don’t have the words.”

            Lance doesn’t have time to quip back that he’ll have plenty of time for words during their vows, because the officiant begins their ceremony. And to be honest, Lance doesn’t totally pay attention. He was never one to pay total attention back in the day—not when Keith was involved, and some things never change. Through the welcome from their officiant, through the introduction, through readings from friends and family, Lance can’t stop staring at Keith, can’t stop having to smother incredulous giggles, while Keith ducks his head to quiet his own, corners of his eyes crinkling with laughter.

            They’re so lost in each other, they almost miss the officiant handing over the reins to them.

            If the attention wasn’t on the pair before, it certainly is now, as they straighten out, and Keith tightens his grip on Lance’s hands, and Lance squeezes him back, because _I_ _’m right here, Starlight. Always have been, always will be._

            Rock, Paper, Scissors several months ago to see who would have the privilege of going second, and getting the final words, went from one round, to the best two out of three, to them losing track of how many times they’d gone, just that Lance had won the last one when they gave up. That left Keith to go first for his vows, and he clears his throat now, raises his eyes to Lance’s, still brimming with tears that can’t seem to stop coming.

            They glisten in the light of the setting sun, one half of Keith’s face bathed in orange, hair shining purple and gold. It takes everything in Lance not to grab his face and kiss him then and there, if only to stop the tears, if only to have Keith closer to him.

            “Lance,” Keith starts, and then mutters an _oh, God,_ and coughs. Chokes on another sob. This one seems to echo around the beach, followed by another. Keith tries for Lance’s name, and that one echoes, too. Lance raises his head, squints and finds the sky has inexplicably darkened, faded to black, and suddenly Keith is against his chest, sniffling, and—

            He’s not even on the beach.

            “Keith?” Lance croaks out, and blinks and finds his eyes _are,_ in fact, wet. “Babe?”

            He sits up in what he discovers is his bed in the dorm. He looks down at his free hand and finds his engagement ring still there, finds that it’s not the wedding band he saw Javier carrying. He shifts, and offers an arm for Keith to latch onto, to help him sit up, too. Keith groans, and scrubs the heel of his hand into one of his eyes, while he looks at Lance with the other.

            “Did you…?”

            His mouth opens and closes a few times, and then he grunts again. Runs a hand through his bedhead, only to have his bangs fall back in his face, and he huffs. Flaps his other hand as he lets go of Lance.

            “Dream. The beach. Both of us…”

            “Uh…yeah, actually,” Lance responds, and reaches out to push a lock of Keith’s hair back for him, while Keith stops moving, leans into his touch to let him handle things. “Did-did we just have a shared dream?”

            “Depends,” Keith responds, and his voice goes quiet. “It was—”

            “Our marriage ceremony—”

            “—and I was just about to do my vows.”

            Lance laughs softly. “Guess our subconscious picked up where we left off.”

            Hours ago, many hours ago. Lance had been studying, cramming in preparation of the exams starting in two days, stressed to the point of tears, stressed to the point of contemplating sacrificing his sleep for the weekend, and the rest of the week for that matter, because after exams he’d be going home and he could sleep then, right? But then Keith was there, the other half of him, pulling him away from a burnout.

            _You can_ _’t do this to yourself. C’mon, time to go shower._

            And they’d showered—snuck past their floormates and into one shower together, and as Lance had done so many months ago for him, Keith took care of him. Massaged his shoulders. Took his time working the shampoo and conditioner into Lance’s hair. Carefully washed him, planted light kisses all over his neck and shoulders and cheeks.

            _Put these on._

            The fuzziest pair of Lance’s pajamas he could find, stuffed into the back of one of his drawers, behind all of his clothes from when it had been warmer, earlier on in the semester. Lance put them on, and while he did that, Keith got to work rifling through Lance’s skincare items, produced a couple face masks.

            _We_ _’re doing this._

            So they did. Lance let Keith push his bangs back with his favorite cactus headband, and then let Lance calm himself down and play with Keith’s hair, before tying his mullet back into one ponytail, and tying his bangs into a tuft on the top of his head.

            _Pineapple Keith_ _’s epic return,_ Lance had teased. _I_ _’m gonna talk about it during my wedding vows, mark my words._

            And that statement led to some spark, something that switched on the light bulb in Keith’s head, as he directed the conversation to their wedding—every last detail of it. Location, color scheme, decorations, wedding party, guest list. Right before they made it to their vows, Keith found Lance asleep, and it didn’t take long for him to follow suit, curling up in Lance’s arms, face pressed to his collarbone.

            The same place he awoke minutes ago, crying.

            “Y’wanna do them now?” Lance whispers, one half of his mouth quirking up.

            Keith shakes his head with his own smile, as Lance’s hand drops to his lap, interlaces their fingers. “Nah. I’m just gonna wing it on our wedding day.”

            He snorts when Lance’s jaw drops, and he gapes at Keith indignantly.

            “You’re just gonna _wing_ your _wedding_ _vows?_ Those are _sacred_ —!”

            “Listen, we all know I’m better doing things on the fly.”

            “Your proposal—”

            “That was a _fluke,_ plain and simple.”

            “Psh, okay, Mullet,” Lance says, and scoots closer, tugs Keith into him. Keith straddles his lap, head resting on Lance’s shoulder, while Lance’s arms wrap around Keith’s back and begin running up and down his spine. “You _say_ you’re gonna wing it, but you’re gonna crack like, a _week_ before the wedding and write them twenty times until they’re perfect.”

            “Yeah, alright,” Keith replies, yawning. “And then on our wedding day, I’m gonna discard them anyway and _still_ wing it. And no matter what, you’re gonna cry and think they’re perfect, because you _love me_ and think _everything_ I do is perfect.”

            “Oh, _okay_ , listen here, Mullet—your _hair._ ”

            “You asked me to keep growing it, don’t even go there.” Keith’s response lacks any bite. He hums and closes his eyes, while Lance leans back again, tugs the blankets back over them.

            “Fine,” Lance mumbles. “You’re still gonna cry first, though.”

            “Mm…sure…”

            Lance threads fingers through Keith’s hair; this time, Keith slips into unconsciousness first, breathing soundlessly, wearing a smile that melts Lance’s heart. Then his eyes drift to the ceiling, as he loses himself in his thoughts, mentally writing and rewriting vows that’ll take him years to perfect. And Keith was right—Keith could spend not even half the amount of time on his own vows, and Lance will love them regardless, will sob in front of all of their wedding guests, because Keith’s never been the wordy one, anyway. Lance’ll know from the shine in his eyes, the way he holds Lance’s hands, the way they’ll kiss after as they’re pronounced husbands.

            He’ll know from all his actions before, his actions in the moment, and everything from there on, because Keith’s not shy about his love. It’s in everything he does—fierce, unwavering devotion. Never half-assed, because Lance has never known Keith to be half-assed in his feelings—zero or one hundred, all the way.

            Just one of the endless things Lance loves about him.

            “I can’t wait for the real thing,” Lance says, voice low. “No matter what happens, no matter what might go wrong—it’s gonna be a perfect day, because I’m gonna end it married to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> YEET off to complete more requests


End file.
